Baby, you made it all mean something. Everything before we met. If they came to me through you, if they hurt you, I couldn’t, I wouldn’t deserve to live. If you love me, I cannot do the things I have to do unless I know you’re safe. If I don’t think you’re safe, I’m lost. They got me.
You ruled the roost. You built something. You thought you were safe. I get it. But the word is out. You are not safe. Not even close.
You may have 800 houses, my friend, but none of them is home. We will keep you on the run for the rest of your life, or until we catch you, or kill you. From now on, nowhere is safe.
Safe is one of those funny words. Sometimes means something different to the person who says it and person who hears it.
People want someone to follow. It’s human nature. They want someone to make them feel safe. And people who feel safe are less dangerous, more productive.
Our children are at risk from so much in this world. We can never protect them from all of it. But when there’s something we can do to make them just a little bit safer, we do it.